


A crown fit for a Queen

by DracoIgnis



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Coronation, Crypts of Winterfell, F/M, Fanart, Fluff, Illustrated, Jonerys, Kissing, Talking, being in love, relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-27
Updated: 2019-07-27
Packaged: 2020-07-23 06:14:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20003638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DracoIgnis/pseuds/DracoIgnis
Summary: “I made a promise.” Jon’s fingers slipped beneath her palm, intertwined with hers. He felt the softness of her hand against his own rough knuckles. “I will bring you to King’s Landing. I will fight by your side for the throne. I did not bring you here to say otherwise.”“Then do tell,” Daenerys said, her voice barely a whisper. “Why did you bring me here?”Jon takes Daenerys to the cryps of Winterfell for a surprise.A Jonerys flashfic with original artwork throughout.





	A crown fit for a Queen

..

“This was my father,” Jon said.

Daenerys looked at the statue. There he stood, the former Lord of Winterfell. The name Eddard Stark carried little meaning in the Free Cities where she grew up, but here men spoke of him with admiration. His death had set something aflame within every Northerner, that much she knew. She could see it in Jon’s eyes too in the way he gazed upon the stone mason’s work. A silent esteem seemed to linger in the air.

..

“This _is_ your father,” Daenerys corrected him. “His death did not kill your relation.”

“He was an honourable man,” Jon said, not breaking eye contact with the carved face. “Some say that was his downfall. Honour.”

“It’s a peculiar world we live in when men are blamed for their integrity,” Daenerys said. She couldn’t help a slight scowl from appearing on her face. “Tyrion and Varys have both counselled me on the so called game that is played in King’s Landing. I say it is a game of masks. The whole royal family might as well be a masquerade the way they shed their clothes and change their person. And yet,” she sighed, pausing as if remembering something painful, “it is the same game that is played in any city where coin not courage rules.”

Jon’s gaze flickered from the statue to Daenerys as she spoke. To a stranger she perhaps looked soft, he realised, as she stood in the crypts in her silky gown, the colour as pale as her skin. But her words were powerful, like a smith striking metal. They seemed to echo in the long hallway.

..

“You want things to be different,” he said, “I know this.”

“I tire of games,” she said. “Games entertain the few whilst creating chaos for the many. I have seen it myself first hand.”

“Perhaps it is human nature,” Jon pondered, “if it reigns even outside the Seven Kingdoms.”

“Nothing is human nature but what humans make.” Daenerys’ head snapped to the side as she stared right into Jon’s eyes. “What do you intent on making, my Lord, once this is over?”

There it was again, those words of power. When he invited her to join him in the crypts, he had planned on leading the conversation. But when she spoke, something in him quieted, and he listened with his heart, unable to dominate the situation. His heart always wanted more.

“We have barely won the fight against the Night King,” Jon said, mulling over his words as he spoke them, “I have yet to consider what happens next.”

“You promised to join me in King’s Landing.”

“I hold my promises,” he said quickly, his brows raising slightly. “Surely you do not question my honour on this matter?”

“I do not, but you speak as if you have no future envisioned?” she queried, her head slightly cocked to the right. Her braids slipped down over her shoulders at the movement. “Forgive me, but all my life I have looked ahead. It has kept me going, knowing what I want to achieve. Whenever I felt hopeless, I thought; the world shall taste freedom. That was always my goal. To let the whole world breathe freely, and so I knew I could not fail.” She stepped closer to him, her hands slipping behind her back as she leaned in, her eyes inquisitive. “If not the future, what keeps you going, my Lord?”

Jon looked down into her eyes, and he felt his lips go dry. He reached out, placing a hand at her waist, and he pulled her in, forcing her to straighten up.

..

Her lips were inches from his. Their breaths slipped warmly across each other’s skin.

“Honour has always led me,” he spoke. “Alike my father, I wish only to lead a life of righteousness. You speak of games, and I know these games. They do not only play out where people have coin, but also where people seek power. In the Night’s Watch, I faced this truth myself.” He slipped his hand from her waist to her hands, still behind her, and he grabbed her wrist, then her palm, led her fingers to his chest.

Beneath the fabric of his shirt, her fingertips followed thickened scars. There we many, she noted, more than she wished to count. She had seen them before, on the boat. Her eyes had followed each of them as he was atop her, the moonlight cascading in through the window, illuminating his frame. She had wished to ask, but dared not.

Now, she pressed her palm flat to his chest before leaning in to briefly kiss the fabric. “My Lord,” she whispered, and she felt as his Adam’s apple slightly jumped as he swallowed. She glanced up at him again. “Are you saying honour led you to me?”

..

“I made a promise.” Jon’s fingers slipped beneath her palm, intertwined with hers. He felt the softness of her hand against his own rough knuckles. “I will bring you to King’s Landing. I will fight by your side for the throne. I did not bring you here to say otherwise.”

“Then do tell,” Daenerys said, her voice barely a whisper. “Why did you bring me here?”

“There was a moment during the battle when I feared the sun should not rise again.” At his words, Daenerys’ hold on his hand tightened, as if she wanted to assure him that everything was okay.

“You feared your death,” she said.

“I never feared my death. It is inevitable,” Jon spoke. “I feared yours.”

Daenerys’ lips deepened into a smile. “My Lord, one way or another, one day or another, even my death is inevitable too. We are but humans.”

“This is true, but I made a promise,” Jon said. He let go of her hand as he took a step back, and Daenerys felt the warmth leave her and the cold take up the space between them.

How she longed to step back close to him, feel his arms wrap around her, feel her skin to his. “My Lord?” she said confused.

“Before my father and all of the Starks before him,” Jon said, his hands disappearing behind his back as he withdrew something, “I wish to honour my promise.” Jon lowered, one leg bent, his other knee firmly on the floor as he knelt before her. “The promise of making you my Queen.”

..

In front of him, he held a crown. It was no crown of value which could cause rich men to gather, for there was no gold and no silver to be seen, no valued stones intricately fastened in metal. Instead, thin branches formed a frame, and around them wrapped blue winter roses, delicate as snow.

Daenerys’ lips parted in a gasp. “My Lord,” she said, but she could say no more as her throat tightened. The cold from before had once again disappeared, and she felt only warmth as Jon rose.

Under the watchful eyes of the Lords of Winterfell all around them, Jon placed the crown upon her head, slipped his hands to her cheeks, and pulled her in for a kiss.

She was warm and soft, and on his tongue he tasted her - sweet like mead. “My Queen,” he said as they parted, just barely, his words spoken mostly to her lips, “should I not live to see you crowned, let this moment be as true to you as a rightful coronation.”

..

Daenerys reached around him, her fingers clinging onto his shirt, his cloak, anything she could reach as she pressed herself closer. She wanted more, she realised, feeling no shame at this truth. She wanted more of him, she wanted all of him. “My Lord,” she whispered, “I don’t want you to speak of death. There shall be none if I have my way.” She pushed her fingers through his black locks. “Death is inevitable,” she agreed with his earlier statement, “so it shall be. You shall die but of old age. That is my sentence as Queen. You shall die of old age in our bed. That is to be your future.”

Jon laughed, and Daenerys smiled with him, her fingers slipping from his hair to his back, pushing up his shirt to feel his skin. Her tips tickled down alongside his spine. “You put a curse on me,” he teased, his own hands grabbing a hold of her thin dress, pulling at it, feeling it first stretch and then tighten around her frame.

“I curse you to a boring life by my side. A life where no one shall want for nothing.”

“By your side?” he repeated, his eyes drawing down across her body before meeting her eyes. “You truly curse me.” With that, his hands slipped beneath her buttocks and before she knew of it he pulled her up.

Daenerys squealed as he pulled her in, her legs wrapping around him as his arms held her safe. “My Lord!”

“If I shall die of old age in our bed,” he smiled, watching her eyes filled with fire, causing his whole body to tingle with excitement, “then let me have a taste and see how I’ll like it.”

As he carried her through the crypts and up the stairs, her crown dropping blue petals behind them, it almost felt like a real coronation, he thought. Watched by the most honourable of all men in the Seven Kingdoms.

..

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks (as always) to DragonandDirewolf on Tumblr for the amazing artwork. If you liked this, you may like the other short illustrated works we have done - please take a look and let us know what you think!
> 
> Sorry for the repost of this, I originally posted it under the wrong tags and deleted. Oops! All should be in order now!


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